


Licence To Thrill

by roe87



Series: Steve/Bucky modern au's [18]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Sex, Competence Kink, Double Agents, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, Happy Ending, Hate Sex, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Missions, Movie AU, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Russian Bucky Barnes, Smut, Spies & Secret Agents, Top Steve Rogers, Undercover Missions, honey pot, meet awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 16:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: James is a Russian spy, ordered to take down American agent Steve Rogers.Steve is an American agent, ordered to take down Russian spy James.But when they first meet, things take a different turn.(Or, a spies meet cute)





	Licence To Thrill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NachoDiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/gifts).



> For [NachoDiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/pseuds/NachoDiablo/works?fandom_id=586439)! Thank you for being awesome! <33
> 
> ~
> 
> Fic inspired in part by a spy movie that isn't James Bond: notes at end of fic, so no spoilers! :D
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~
> 
> / = translated from Russian

 

 

_/American agent Steven Grant Rogers will be landing in London City Airport, England on flight 291 at midday. Your mission is to follow him to his hotel, discover what Intel he has, and if necessary take him out._

_Destroy this message after reading./_

 

 

 

James had a seat in the airport arrivals lounge, and was pretending to read a magazine. He periodically peered around the pages to check for his target, but he hadn't arrived yet.

He had a plan to track the CIA agent once he arrived.

James chewed on the gum in his mouth, tonguing it into position so he could blow out a big pink bubble. He was currently dressed in black with a leather jacket, and his hair was long. He had on a pair of tinted sunglasses, and after another quick scan of the arrivals lounge, James went back to hiding behind his magazine.

Agent Rogers was believed to be in London to meet with MI6, possibly to share compromising Intel that James had to intercept.

Finally, flight 291 came in and the passengers filed through arrivals. James discarded his magazine when he spotted the CIA agent: tall, broad shoulders, a square jaw and blond hair. He was dressed in a dark suit and long raincoat, carrying a briefcase.

James moved into position, standing among the other people waiting in arrivals. He subtly removed the gum from his mouth and flicked it onto the floor, exactly where Rogers was about to plant his foot.

Rogers stepped on the gum, and it stuck to his shoe.

James smiled to himself and looked through his glasses, tapping the frame to bring up thermal imaging. The marks left by the gum were clear to see on the ground.

James waited a few moments, then followed Rogers out of the airport.

A car was waiting for him, and Rogers got into it. James merely activated the tracking signal on the gum, which would only work for around one hour, but luckily Rogers didn't go far within the city.

James followed on his motorbike, and he was an expert at tailing. By the time he got to the hotel, Rogers had already gone inside, judging by the signal.

There wasn't much time left. The meeting would likely take place in this hotel, or Rogers was using it as a base.

James parked his bike around the back. When he removed his bike helmet he removed his long wig too, and ran a hand through his short wavy hair.

He switched out his leather jacket for a suit jacket, stashing his other disguise inside the bike seat.

Then he walked casually to the hotel entrance.

James smiled when he tapped his glasses and saw the marks on the side-walk left by the gum. He followed the footprints inside, walking through the elegant lobby and over to the elevator.

Once inside, James tapped his glasses again to check for the tracking signal, judging that Rogers was on floor number seven.

He pressed the button for seven, then prepared himself: he removed the glasses and slipped them into his pocket, then he adjusted the shoulder holster under his jacket.

There was another gun strapped to his ankle, and several knives concealed about his person.

James was ready to go find Rogers and interrogate him.

What James was _not_ ready for, was Rogers to be standing right in front of him as the elevator doors opened.

James schooled his features, masking his surprise. Rogers was looking right at him, with an amused half smile on his lips.

James calculated his options. Act natural, like he was just another guest at the hotel. Or, engage.

Then Rogers spoke.

"Gotta say," he drawled, New York accent coming in strong, "your photos don't do you justice."

James froze, as two facts entered his mind. First, that he was made. Which was irritating, but he'd been in stickier situations than this.

But the second was what made him hesitate: Rogers was flirting with him.

Which shouldn't have stalled him, but... Well, it did.

James finally reacted, and decided to play it cool. He cocked his head slightly, as if confused.

"Photos?" he said, in his practised American accent.

"Yeah." Rogers gave him a full smile now, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. "My mission was to take you out too."

Ah.

Talk about awkward, James thought.

He very subtly moved to brace himself for a fight, while giving Rogers a mild frown. "Was?" he questioned.

Rogers held up his hands, palms out. "What do you say, live and let live, huh?"

Then he slowly reached into the elevator, telegraphing his movements, and pressed the button for the ground floor.

James watched in astonishment as the doors slid closed, and Rogers waved goodbye.

The elevator went down, and James was still trying to piece together what had just happened. An enemy agent had caught him by surprise, and spared him.

 _And_ flirted with him, his hind brain provided. Can't forget that.

Something fluttered in James' belly, something like excitement but a different kind to when he was on a mission or taking down targets.

This flutter was more like...

 _Hope_.

"Bozhe moi," he hissed, and pressed the button for Rogers' floor again.

What had he been thinking? Letting himself be charmed and distracted by the target? This wasn't his first day in the field, he was a highly skilled agent. Second to none.

When he got to Rogers' floor again, Rogers had gone. James looked around, tried to track his signal, but that had vanished too.

The target had escaped.

James could only roll his eyes at himself. Highly skilled agent, indeed.

 

~

 

It got personal after that.

James attempted to track Rogers through the city of London, but he seemed to be always two steps ahead, leading James on a wild goose chase.

Rogers must have had his meeting and hopped back onto a plane before James could catch up to him.

He followed Rogers' trail to Europe: Madrid, Spain, and onto Florence, Italy. Rogers had switched out his business suits for a more typical tourist look of casual clothes, ball cap and sunglasses.

James, too, opted for shirts with open collars with a thin blazer over the top. He still had to hide his weapons, hot as it was.

He tailed Rogers around the streets of Florence all day, with the sun high in the sky. Finally Rogers went to a little cafe in a side street, its table shaded by parasols.

James watched from around the corner as Rogers chose a table, his back to the cafe so he could face the street. The other tables were empty, and if James went over there he would look conspicuous.

He'd have to wait, sweat it out in the sun and hope Rogers moved on soon.

James waited, loitering out of sight and only peering around the corner to check if Rogers had moved.

Rogers had ordered an iced tea, and sipped on it leisurely.

James huffed in annoyance, and tapped on his sunglasses to zoom in on Rogers.

He caught Rogers looking his way, also tapping on his sunglasses. He flashed that amused, lopsided grin, then mouthed in English, _'Come take a seat.'_

James had had just about enough of Rogers' sass, but he was hot and tired.

Fine, he thought, and made his way over there.

James chose a table in the opposite corner to Rogers, with two tables between them. He sat down casually, like he was just another tourist going about his business.

When the waiter came out to take his order, James also ordered an iced tea. He kept his sunglasses on, and angled his head so he could watch Rogers.

Rogers grinned at him. _'The iced tea is great,'_ he mouthed.

James had no problem reading lips, but he wasn't about to enter into small talk with the enemy.

James wasn't even sure what he was doing. Maybe the sun had gotten to his head.

The waiter brought out his glass of iced tea, and Rogers kept right on grinning at him.

James wasn't a total fool, and he wasn't about to fall for the oldest trick in the book. He took a paper strip from his pocket and slipped it into his glass, testing for poison.

The paper didn't change color, so James used a second paper strip just in case. He was mildly surprised when that didn't change either, but satisfied the tea wasn't dangerous, he raised his glass.

On the other side of the cafe, Rogers raised his glass too. _'Your health,'_ he toasted.

James may have been annoyed, but he still had his manners. He mouthed the English words, _'And to yours.'_

Rogers seemed pleased, his grin becoming even wider.

James exhaled in a huff, and looked away. He scanned the cafe for anyone else, a sniper, perhaps, or another agent waiting in the wings. Though he didn't see anything suspicious.

What was Rogers up to? What was his game?

James moved his sunglasses down his nose, and looked over their rim at Rogers. The guy was still beaming like an idiot.

 _'You like Italy?'_ Rogers asked.

James frowned in reply. _'Too hot,'_ he mouthed back. _'Why did you come here?'_

 _'I'm on vacation,'_ Rogers replied.

James didn't believe that for one moment, and he let the look on his face show as much.

Rogers removed his sunglasses, still smiling. He took a sip of his tea, eyes never leaving James.

At some point, James would succeed in retrieving the Intel Rogers had. He was determined, and he glared back at Rogers as he took a sip of his own tea.

 _'This is almost like a date,'_ Rogers said next.

James blinked in surprise, but if that was Rogers' game, then he would play along.

 _'Hardly,'_ he replied.

Rogers smiled at him. _'If this was a date,'_ he mouthed, forcing James to focus on his mouth, _'I'd tell you how cute you look when you pout.'_

If looks could kill, James would've murdered Rogers on the spot.

 _'You're doing it again,'_ Rogers told him, before the smile took over his face.

James tried to regain his composure. "If you're attempting to distract me," he hissed under his breath, "it will not work."

 _'Actually I was attempting to flirt with you,'_ Rogers replied. _'I told you, I'm on vacation.'_

 _'You took Intel from Moscow,'_ James mouthed to him. _'I will have it back.'_

Rogers merely shrugged one shoulder, unconcerned. _'You wanna talk?'_ He slid his sunglasses on.

 _'Tell me what you know,'_ James said, _'maybe I will spare your life.'_

Rogers hid his smile behind his glass, sipping calmly on his tea. _'You know what does make me loose lipped,'_ he said, setting the glass back down. _'Post coital pillow talk.'_

James raised his eyebrows a little.

Okay, so Rogers was either trying to trap him, or have sex with him.

Or both.

But, fuck it, James was interested. He blamed it on the heat, the atmosphere of the city. He tilted his chin down, looking at Rogers as he replied, _'You better top.'_

A slow grin spread over Rogers' face, and he nodded. _'Hotel at the end of the street. I'm in room 5B.'_

James nodded, and let Rogers leave first.

As he waited a few moments alone, James mentally prepared himself for walking into a trap. There could be a dozen agents lined up, waiting to take him out every step of the way.

He'd have to be on his guard.

 

James made his way to the hotel, encountering no one and nothing suspicious.

He was on high alert, checking for tails behind him, but nothing.

When he knocked on Rogers' door, James had his hand inside his jacket, ready to draw his gun. But Rogers was alone, and smiled at him.

"Please, come in," he said, holding the door open wide.

James had a clear view into the room. This was as good an opportunity as he'd had yet to question Rogers on his Intel, so James entered the room. He checked the en suite first, which was empty, then the windows. The drapes were already closed, and when James looked outside, there was nobody waiting on the small balcony.

"I promise we're alone," Rogers said, amused. He closed the door and flicked the latch to lock it. "I'm not into voyeurism."

James gave him a wry smile, and removed his hand from his gun. "Then there's a chance you could be in the wrong business," he replied, American accent in place.

Rogers laughed softly. "I'll take what I can get. I'm Steve, by the way. What can I call you? Because Agent Kalachnyk is a bit of a mouthful, not gonna lie."

James was quietly impressed.

"Yes," he conceded. "You may call me James."

This earned him another big smile. "James. Okay, then." He raised his hands, telegraphing his movements, and began to unbutton his shirt. "Nice accent, by the way. I'd almost believe it was real."

James kept his face impassive, so as not to give away his annoyance.

Rogers... _Steve_ was still grinning at him, seemingly at ease and it was very disarming, made James want to trust him.

James did not trust easy, but he was good at reading people, and he knew in his gut that Steve had no intention of hurting him today, and that alone put James a little more at ease.

He copied Steve by unbuttoning his own shirt, and they undressed quietly, watching each other. Next, Steve took out his gun, slowly, and laid it on a side table, so James followed.

Then the second gun, followed by knives. One by one, they disarmed their weapons and removed the rest of their clothes. James matched Steve's pace, going slow with no sudden movements. His eyes roved greedily over Steve's body as more of it was revealed.

His physique was incredible, and hunger bloomed inside James. He'd worry about Intel gathering later, but right now all he could think about was getting laid.

Steve took him to bed, and as he pressed his naked body up against James he made some dry remark about seeing how long it took for James to lose his accent.

James laughed in reply, feeling confident, but he'd underestimated Steve, who as it turned out was _very_ skilled in bed. Within an hour of teasing and love-making, James could barely remember English let alone worry about what accent he spoke with.

As they laid side by side after round one, sweaty and panting, Steve chuckled to himself. "I like your real accent," he said, sounding smug.

James didn't care, he was floating on clouds and he just didn't care. He did call Steve an asshole in Russian, though, but that only made Steve laugh.

James focused on getting his breath back, then he thought he should really try to regain the upper hand here.

When they'd both recovered, James got up and straddled Steve for round two, riding him at a tortuously slow pace.

"You promised me pillow talk," he panted, bouncing a little faster on Steve's cock.

"Yeah?" Steve panted back, watching James with heavy lidded eyes. "What d'you wanna talk about?"

"Tell me what you know," James demanded, slowing the pace again. He reached forward and rubbed his hands up Steve's sculpted chest, eyes locked with Steve's.

Steve smiled back at him, his big hands holding onto James' thighs. "I know that you're hot," he teased, thrusting his hips up.

James gasped as Steve took over the rhythm, and realised once again he'd lost control of the situation.

Oh, well, he thought, chasing his orgasm. Sex first, interrogate later...

 

Round two and round three left James loose limbed and panting on the bed. But he hadn't forgotten his mission.

"I don't want to hurt you," he admitted, as they laid side by side. "But I need to recover your Intel."

"Well, when you put it like that," Steve said, leaning over him with a smile. "Kiss me first?"

James relented, and closed his eyes for the kiss.

That was a mistake, he realised, as cold metal snapped around his wrist with a familiar click.

_Handcuffs._

James was too dazed to put it together until it was too late, and found himself with both wrists handcuffed to the bedframe.

Steve gave him an apologetic smile, then rolled off the bed. James called him an asshole in Russian, with much more force this time.

"Sorry," Steve told him, pulling on his clothes. "Man of your skills, this won't hold you long. But I really gotta run."

He gathered his things as James glared at him from the bed.

"Rogers," he hissed, "don't you dare leave me here."

"No hard feelings?" Steve said, and put on a pair of sunglasses. "Great sex, by the way."

Then he left the room and shut the door behind him.

James stared furiously after him. Steve was right, handcuffs wouldn't hold him for long, but it would be long enough for Steve to slip away again.

Next time they met, James would go back to basics: shoot first and ask questions later.

 

~

 

The next time James ran into Steve, he was ready for payback.

He'd tailed him to Milan and found where Steve was staying: a small hotel on the outskirts of the city.

James waited for him to leave that night, and would tail him again on his scooter. But when Steve got down to the street with his bag, six guys surrounded him and tried to hustle him into a car.

James watched, and figured they had to be mafia.

Well, that was annoying.

Agent Rogers was an expert at hand to hand combat, and had the bulk to back him up. But against six guys, and one with a taser, it looked like he might lose.

James sighed, and took out his gun. He quickly screwed on the silencer, and got into position.

James was more of a shoot from a distance and quietly infiltrate type of spy. So he took down the interlopers one by one with clean shots, leaving Steve alive.

Then he marched over there and looked down at Rogers, sprawled on his ass.

"James?" he said in surprise. "You saved me?"

James considered shooting Steve while he was down, but he couldn't find it in him. He offered his hand out instead. "We have unfinished business."

Steve laughed wryly, and took James' hand to stand up. "I guess we do," he said. "Don't suppose you fancy driving me to the airport while I get my breath back?"

James nodded, and put away his gun. He stole a car, and drove them to the airport with Steve in the passenger seat.

"So, talk," he prompted. "You have Intel that I need."

"Actually, I don't," Steve said. "The Intel was taken by another agent, and I was the red herring. My mission was to distract you, and take you out if you posed a threat."

James exhaled slowly.

 _Shit_.

Either Steve was lying, or he was telling the truth and James had been played for a fool.

"Do you still plan to take me out?" he asked, glancing at Steve.

"Maybe to dinner," Steve joked.

James huffed. "You're playing a dangerous game, Agent Rogers."

"Come work with me," Steve said. "The CIA would pay you. I know you don't like who you work for."

"What makes you say that?" James asked, annoyed, because Steve was correct.

"Let's just say we have a mutual friend," Steve said cryptically.

James had his suspicions about double agents in the KGB, and if he'd ever been tempted to turn himself, well... this was certainly a tempting offer.

But he couldn't.

Could he?

"They would kill me," he said.

"So come to America," Steve countered. "I'd have plenty of work for you. Good pay, plus you'd get to work with me."

James felt his lips twitch in a smile. "I'll think about it."

The airport was in sight, and James drove them to the drop off point.

He must've taken leave of his senses, letting Steve go like this. Truthfully, James didn't know what to do.

Steve sensed his hesitation, and before he got out the car, he said softly, "Look, think it over. Come meet me in Paris in two weeks, we can talk. I'll leave you a letter at the Regina Louvre hotel."

James nodded. "Alright."

"Take care, James." Steve gave him a smile in parting, then got out of the car.

Once again, James was left on his own wondering what to do.

"Bozhe moi," he muttered.

 

~

 

James was reluctant to go back to his handlers with no Intel.

Steve had been right, James wasn't happy. But what options did he have? Turn double agent, work for the CIA?

James didn't particularly like the CIA either, but the thought of working with Steve certainly swayed him.

Of all the men James had met in his line of work, he hadn't met anyone quite like Steve Rogers.

James felt inexplicably drawn to him, and it was frustrating to not be in control but that fluttery, hopeful feeling returned every time James thought about Steve. And admittedly he did think about Steve rather a lot.

So, he found himself going to Paris. He was still technically on mission to retrieve Intel and take out Agent Rogers, and that would buy him some time.

James dressed in a tailored suit, styled his hair and took a car to the five star hotel in the city center. He walked up to the front desk and gave the name James, hoping Steve hadn't used his full name.

The desk clerk smiled, and handed over a sealed envelope for him. In neat scrawl on the front was written, _James_.

James thanked her, and took the letter into the bar to find a quiet corner and read.

 

_James,_

_I hope this finds you well. My offer still stands, I hope you've had time to think about it. If you'd like to talk, come to the Eiffel Tower at eight PM this evening, there's a charity gala. I'll be there._

_-S._

 

James re-read the letter several times, committing it to memory before he destroyed it. He'd made up his mind, and he wanted to tell Steve in person.

He took a cab to the Eiffel Tower, lit up with bright lights, with the gala party in full swing below it on the ground.

James had no trouble slipping in, and mingled a little as he scoped out the party goers.

He couldn't see Steve yet, but he had no doubt Steve was here. The gala had a few speeches, and announced they'd be releasing fireworks soon. James checked his watch.

It was well after eight, closer to nine now.

He hoped he hadn't walked into a trap. Steve may have toyed with him before, but he hadn't ever tried to turn James in or harm him. James really hoped he hadn't misjudged the situation.

He took a flute of champagne to calm his nerves, and went to stand at the back of the party to watch the fireworks.

As a figure stepped in close to him, James felt that hopeful flutter in his belly once again.

"Hey," Steve said, flashing him a smile. He too was dressed in a sharp suit, champagne in hand.

James smiled back cautiously. "I thought you weren't coming."

"Sorry. Had to check you were alone."

"I'm alone," James said, watching Steve.

Steve held his eyes, and asked, "You thought about my offer?"

James nodded. "Tell me, what's America like to live in?"

Steve instantly broke into a grin. "It's not so bad. I can show you the best bits."

He was really doing this, James thought. He was going to run off with the enemy. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, because he had to ask, "This isn't a trick?"

"Nope." Steve only smiled at him. "Our mutual friend suggested you might be swayed. So I offered to check you out."

James smiled wryly. "And who is our mutual friend?"

"If you come work with us, you'll soon find out."

James had an inkling who it was, because he'd only dared be honest with very few people in his life. Steve, it seemed, was one of those people too.

"And I'll work with you?" he asked.

Steve nodded. "I'd never have gotten out of Italy without your help. I think with our combined skills, we'd make a pretty good team."

"If you cross me––"

"I won't," Steve told him. "You have my word."

James smiled.

It was probably foolish to take the word of a spy, but James believed him.

"Very well," he agreed. "I will work with you."

He turned toward Steve, just as Steve turned to him. Their lips met in a kiss, as fireworks exploded in the night sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> This fic was inspired by the opening scenes in Spy Kids, because I could totally see Steve and Bucky in those roles (and apparently every movie I watch is a 'What if this was Steve and Bucky?' prompt).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this au! :D
> 
> Rebloggable posts for this fic on [tumblr](https://jro616.tumblr.com/post/182532716160/licence-to-thrill-roe87-captain-america) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/jro616/status/1092157581894787072). 
> 
> Alternative title suggestion, from the wonderful Esaael:  
> Bucky Barnes, License to Bottom! (That can be the title of the sequel, lol)
> 
> Edit to add: Nacho very kindly commissioned art for this fic for my bday! View it [here](https://jro616.tumblr.com/post/184159162155/stevebucky-commission-for-nachodiablo-thank-you).
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://jro616.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/jro616), come say hi!


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